


A Domestic Afternoon

by madlysanecatlady



Series: The Nice and Accurate Ineffable Husbands Compendium [7]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic, Domesticity, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 04:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19143349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: In which Aziraphale and Crowley finally have some time to be comfortable together after that whole unpleasant armageddon business.





	A Domestic Afternoon

‘You’ve had rather a disastrous day, haven’t you dear?’ Aziraphale tried his absolute damnedest – no heavenedest(he had absolutely _no_ idea if that were a saying at all but did not care in the slightest) – oh did it even matter anymore? – not to laugh as Crowley slunk into the bookshop absolutely _covered_ in what appeared to be a combination of river algae, melted cherry and chocolate ice cream, and bird droppings. ‘What in the world happened? No, don’t answer. We should get you cleaned up first. The miracle way or the human way?’

‘You offering to do the dirty work, angel?’ Crowley looked surprised behind his designer (part of the new collection, which oddly, looked almost _exactly_ like the previous one but cost twice as much) sunglasses. ‘I thought you were _utterly and imperishably opposed to frivolous miracles_ or something to that effect.’

‘This is no frivolous matter,’ Aziraphale looked affronted by the thought, and also seemed to determinedly ignore the fact that Crowley had indeed perfectly quoted him, haughty tone and all. He concentrated carefully, and within minutes, every millimetre of Crowley was pristine.

The demon looked down and tutted at the new shoes and tie that had so _miraculously_ appeared on his person. ‘ ** _Angel_**. We’ve talked about this. I don’t go updating your wardrobe* even though it _desperately_ needs it.’(*The anymore was left unsaid, they both _clearly_ remembered the absolute disaster of a row they’d had when Crowley had replaced his favourite angel’s tartan tie and trousers with leather and studs.)

‘Oh yes, terribly sorry,’ Aziraphale sheepishly returned them to normal. He flipped the _Closed_ sign to face outwards and bolted the shop door, despite having only just opened, and led Crowley into the back room, dithering about between the coffee maker and the wine before finally settling on the coffee maker and pulling out some alcoholised coffee additive. ‘Sit down, dear, sit, and tell me all about what in the world happened.’

‘Not much to tell,’ Crowley shrugged, watching the angel fuss with the coffee cups as he waited for the coffee to brew fondly. He thought it was incredibly endearing the way the angel _still_ made such a fuss over such a silly thing as coffee to offer well, what amounted to his only guest that ever dropped by. He knew it was simply a deeply-ingrained part of who the angel was to be a good host, but Crowley hoped at least some of it was out of care and deference to Crowley himself.

‘Well, tell me the not much anyways,’ Aziraphale prompted, pouring and spiking their coffees and heading over to perch on the sofa next to Crowley, handing him the coffee.

Crowley hadn’t realised he had gone completely silent for so long in watching Aziraphale. He shook himself back to his perfect demonic senses. He smiled. ‘I think it’s pretty obvious that a child crashed into me with their infernal ice cream treat, sending me hurtling down into the pond, where the ducks promptly informed me how they felt about my intrusion.’

Aziraphale did not want to laugh. He truly did not. A few chuckles broke free nonetheless, but he succeeded in hushing them rather quickly. ‘I’m sorry, that’s terrible, Crowley, truly. I don’t mean to laugh.’

‘No, laugh it up, angel, it’s not every day you get to see _me_ making a fool of myself. It’s usually you taking care of that,’ Crowley winked as Aziraphale scowled at him. ‘Needless to say, though, I’m done for the day.’

‘Yes, I would quite expect that,’ Aziraphale nodded, sipping his coffee and making a face. He was once again faced with the fact that things the demon tended to like were often far too bitter and lacking in the sweet decadence for him.

‘Sweets for the sweet,’ Crowley smirked. Miraculously, the coffee in the angel’s hand turned into a mocha latte complete with chocolate whipped cream. ‘You don’t need to keep trying to force yourself into having things you hate just because I like them.’

‘Oh my thank you,’ Aziraphale took a sip and closed his eyes, clearly pleased. ‘I simply didn’t want to have to bother with anything. It’s more important to get you tended to.’

‘Angel, I’m fine,’ Crowley rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t need to fret over me.’

‘You’ve had an awful day, dear,’ Aziraphale shook his head. ‘The priority should be to make you feel better.’

‘No danger of that failing to happen, angel,’ Crowley’s voice turned soft. ‘I felt better the minute I was in through that door. There’s something to be said about the healing effects of an angel’s doting over you.’

Aziraphale’s cheeks went pink. He busied himself in drinking his new chocolate confection rather than respond. Crowley had to smile at this. His angel really was an adorable mess when he’d been properly embarrassed.

‘Go on then, get to whatever you were planning on doing before I showed up on your doorstep covered in muck,’ Crowley waved at him dismissively. ‘I won’t keep you away from it.’

‘Well, barring any customers actually coming calling–’

‘Yes, the _audacity_.’

‘I had only been planning on reading one of the new signed first editions I’ve recently acquired,’ Crowley knew Aziraphale had meant to sound nonchalant about this, but the angel had never been particularly gifted at hiding his overt obsession with the written word. Crowley knew it would be quite the bother to the angel to not get to feast his eyes upon the words within his newly-hoarded treasures.

‘Don’t let me get in the way of that, angel,’ Crowley smiled and drained his cup, miracling it clean and standing to bring it back to its place next to the coffee maker. ‘Pop open one of those books and enjoy.’

‘You’ll get bored, dear,’ Aziraphale frowned.

‘I’ll keep myself entertained,’ Crowley picked up one of the books he recognised as new at random and handed it over to the angel. He could tell Aziraphale was conflicted between wanting to simply devour the story inside and deferring to Crowley. Crowley always knew how to solve the conundrum for him. ‘You read, I’ll just lounge around and maybe take a nap. You know how I love naps.’

‘Oh alright,’ Aziraphale gave in without much of a fight at all, as was routine of course. He set his drink down on the end table and opened the book, not yet looking at the page and instead looking up at Crowley worriedly.

‘Enjoy, angel,’ Crowley flung himself down onto the sofa, hesitating for the tiniest of a second before plopping his head down into Aziraphale’s lap. He smiled when the angel looked down at him in surprise. ‘All those cakes make for a comfortable pillow.’

Aziraphale smiled, turning his attention to the first page of his book. ‘I knew there was a reason for your sudden desire to try every bakery in London. Selfish demon.’

Crowley snorted and settled in more comfortably. He hadn’t actually planned on napping – he had merely said that to get Aziraphale to acquiesce more quickly. But now that he was sprawled out and pillowed comfortably basking in the warmth and affection flowing freely from his favourite angel, Crowley felt as though he could settle in and sleep there for a thousand years. Still, he had _intended_ to simply lay there and bask in the warmth of the new domesticity they were now able to enjoy, what with the threat of the end of the world having passed and all. He wanted to at least get a little bit of that in as well.

He looked up at the angel from behind his shaded glasses, pleased he wouldn’t be able to see him watching – Aziraphale had a habit of becoming flustered when he noticed Crowley simply watching him. Crowley smiled, unable to help himself, when he saw the look of relaxed concentration on his angel’s face as he read. He loved to see Aziraphale so calm and happy, especially after the stress and terror from the last week. It was a look that Crowley somewhat jealously realised only fell upon the angel’s face when he was reading one of his beloved books. He loved seeing Aziraphale so contented, but hating having to share in his affections, regardless of how silly it sounded to be jealous of inanimate objects.

‘If you’re going to stare at me, at least let me see those beautiful eyes of yours, dear,’ Aziraphale murmured, eyes glancing down at Crowley while he smiled. He set the book down on the arm of the sofa and reached down to gently pull the glasses from Crowley’s face and set them on the side table. ‘Much better.’

‘Not going to get all flustered and embarrassed this time while I admire you?’ Crowley raised an eyebrow, blinking up to help the angel’s face come into focus in the newly-brightened light.

‘I’ll try,’ Aziraphale picked up his book again, but Crowley could see the pink crawling up his cheeks and the way his eyes kept darting back down to meet his demon’s. He gave a short laugh. ‘You’re rather distracting.’

‘Can’t help that I’m gorgeous, angel,’ Crowley stretched languidly, turning onto his side and wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s ample waist, giving a tight squeeze. He let out a hiss of contentment. ‘Like you can’t help how comfortably warm you are.’

Aziraphale smiled softly and reached behind him to grab the soft wool blanket he kept there for Crowley’s naps and tucked it around him. He smiled at the second, longer hiss of contentment. ‘Warm enough, dear?’

‘Always around you,’ Crowley squeezed again and closed his eyes, settling in. ‘Wake me up when you’re finished, or rather, when you’re feeling a bit peckish – that will probably be first.’

Aziraphale reached down with the hand that wasn’t occupied holding his book and brushed Crowley’s hair between his fingers. ‘Sleep, my dear demon. Let me read.’

Crowley nodded, letting out a long sigh before breathing in the familiar scent of Aziraphale. He loved this. He loved this angel. Any moment he was able to simply relax and bask in that was beyond welcome. He smiled, feeling sleep moving in to overtake him. He was really going to enjoy this delightfully domestic afternoon. The soft, gentle hand carding through his hair told him he wasn’t the only one. The last thing Crowley heard before drifting off into blissful dreams was an angel’s whispered wish for just such dreams.

 


End file.
